When the midnight is over

When the midnight is over
the son begins to rain
walking away softly and in pain
he feels that home is never the same

Sourcing through the veins
memories are seared
cut, sizzled and burned
a little boy cries
he sees nowhere to turn

When the midnight is over
the dawn tries to creep in
a little light here
a little light there

you roll over and close the shades.

We love you Pickle

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